


Awake/Alive

by Jessibelle



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Din Djarin Needs a Hug, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Multi, Post-Season/Series 02, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Service Animals, Slow Burn, The Mandalorian (TV) Spoilers, Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-17 21:01:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29356884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jessibelle/pseuds/Jessibelle
Summary: The Mandalorian gave up his son to a Jedi.Now, nearly one year later, he is summoned by the Armourer.He must decide how to move forward while training his replacement for the covert.He must also investigate who placed the bounty on his head, and why?This story contains references to past traumatic events, coping with PTSD, and other mature content.Tags will be updated as the story progresses, and there will be appropriate warnings on relevant chapters.Updates every Friday.
Relationships: Din Djarin/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 34





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by my absolutely amazing, long suffering husband Mike.  
> This work is dedicated to him for putting up with me simping over fictional characters, especially certain helmet wearing men.
> 
> N.B: in this house we stan Cara Dune, but NOT Gina Carano.

Prologue

* * *

The Mandalorian stalks through the dusty town that passes for civilisation on Nevarro. He’s on a mission, one that he is none too happy about. But he must do as his Alor commands.

His eyes twitch behind his helmet as he sees a few of the townsfolk whisper behind their hands. It could be for any number of reasons, but the one that sticks in his mind is the fight that got the Child safely to the Crest and off this Maker forsaken rock. It was after that that the Imps came. A pile of discarded beskar helmets and armour haunts his dreams sometimes. So many of the Covert marched far away that day.

He huffs through his nose before heading towards the Marshal’s office.

* * *

Cara Dune sets her mug of caf down and picks up her data pad. As glad as she is to no longer have a price on her head, she’s not overly enamoured with the paperwork that comes with her new position as Marshal.

She doesn’t look up as a shadow falls across her desk. Nor as the shadow maker comes to stand right in front of her. Her eyes do flick upwards when a gloved finger lowers her data pad. She quirks an eyebrow at the familiar t-shaped visor.

“Can I help you, Mando?”

The Mandalorian clenches his fists and silently squares his jaw behind his beskar.

“I’m looking for someone. And my sources tell me you know where to find him.”

Cara narrows her eyes before taking a sip from her caf.

“And why should I help you?” She enquires as she subtly moves her other hand to her blaster.

What she isn’t expecting are the words that come from behind the blue painted helmet.

“Because he could be worthy of the Creed again.”

Cara takes in the giant of a man in blue armour, the massive repeating blaster on his back, his imposing stance.

“He still is worthy.” She replies, barely keeping the bite out of her voice. She can’t see the Mandalorian’s face, but she can practically feel the annoyance rolling off him. He fumbles in one of the many pouches at his waist for a moment before placing something on the desk in front of Cara. As he removes his fingers the bounty puck starts projecting the image of a man and Cara’s heart drops.

The Mandalorian in blue armour places both his hands on Cara’s desk and leans down.

“I need to know Marshal.” His voice is low, with a hint of danger in it. “Where is Din Djarin?”


	2. Chapter One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Din is summoned by an old friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a translations and terms at the end.
> 
> No major warnings for this chapter, just angst. Hints of alcohol as a coping mechanism (if you squint). 
> 
> I didn't like leaving just the prologue up, so have another chapter!  
> After this updates will be every Friday, around noon GMT.

* * *

Din still ate alone. His helmet may have been off for around a standard year now, but after wearing it for so long he felt uncomfortable doing what everyone just got on with. He would sometimes sit with Omera and Winta as they ate, a plate of food in front of him and a fork in his hand. But he just couldn’t lift the food to his mouth with others around.

The Sorgan krill farmers had welcomed him wholeheartedly, once they realised who he was without his helmet and armour on, and they understood his need to keep to himself. Omera had fashioned him a cowl and hood to wear around the village after she realised he hadn’t emerged from the barn for four days. That had been a little over six months ago.

Din helped out here and there, watching the young ones, occasional heavy lifting, but mostly he sat just outside the barn with a jug of spotchka on a table that he would occasionally sip at when he was sure that nobody was watching.

* * *

The shadow of the ship briefly blotted out the light of the early afternoon sun as it passed low over head, Din watched as it banked low and slow towards a clearing outside of the village. Several of the farmers and young ones paused to watch it go, and more than one eye darted to where the ex-bounty hunter sat. But they were soon back at work, and nobody noticed when Din subtly shifted to move the hidden blaster from behind him and have it within easier reaching distance.

* * *

It was close to sunset when Din saw movement in the trees. Then he heard the all clear call from the lookout and he felt himself relax slightly. The villagers gathered in front of the common house, and several of the young ones let out happy calls when Cara Dune emerged from the dense foliage. Din hung back, leaning against the barn as Cara was warmly welcomed back. He watched with a slight smile that was hidden by the shadows of his cowl and hood as she was greeted with enthusiastic hugs from the children and firm gripped handshakes from the adults. It was a few minutes before he saw Cara get to Omera, and the older woman point the ex-rebel towards Din.

“Hey Mando.” She said, as she sauntered over to him. “How’s the spotchka?”

Din gave a little huff of laughter before replying “As good as ever.”

He reached for the jug meaning to pour Cara a glass, “You want some?”

But as he turned his head to check her answer he saw Cara shake hers.

“I’m afraid I didn’t come here to relax.” She explained. Din frowned and motioned for her to sit next to the table he usually occupied.

“What’s going on? Is it the kid?”

Seated on Din’s usual chair Cara shook her head.

“No, I’ve not heard anything about the kid.”

Din let out a short sigh of relief and lowered himself to a crate that normally served to prop up his feet.

“But I did get a visit from one of your friends.”

Din’s head snapped up at that. He could probably count his friends on one hand and still have fingers left over.

“He said he had a message for you.” Cara continued, “Big guy, bigger gun, almost as flashy with the beskar as you.”

Din narrowed his eyes

“Mandalorian?”

Cara nodded.

“From what I could tell. I mean you never know what’s behind that bucket.” She tapped her head for emphasis. “But he said it was for your ears only.”

Din frowned.

“So, what, do we need to arrange a meeting or...?”

Din trailed of as Cara gave a dismissive wave of her hand.

“No nothing like that. He told me to say something to you.”

“Okay, so say it.”

Cara rolled her eyes slightly as she reached into a pocket.

“Sure, just don’t kill me over the pronunciation. OK?”

She unfolded a small piece of paper and frowned in concentration before stumbling over the unfamiliar words.

“Ibic cuyi haar Manda.”

Din’s eyes shot to Cara’s in shock.

“Did I pronounce that right?” She grinned.

Din nodded slightly.

“Good. Now, don’t shoot me for this.” She reached to her belt and pulled out a com-link. She clicked the button three times quickly and got two clicks of static in response.

Din frowned as he felt his adrenaline rise. His hand moved almost unconsciously towards his hip and the blaster that hung there. Cara sat back and folded her arms over her chest. In the distance Din thought he could hear a familiar noise, but it was difficult over the sound of the youngsters playing nearby.

He stood quickly when he heard it properly, the crate tumbling away as he pulled his blaster in preparation for whoever was coming in on the jet-pack. He heard a few panicked shouts from the villagers as a figure appeared over the tree tops, and was aware of the children running to the safety of their parents embrace.

The figure banked lazily and turned in to land heavily in front of Din and Cara. As he recognised the colour and pattern on the armour Din relaxed, but didn’t holster his weapon. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Omera eyeing the large Mandalorian warily, and knew she and the rest of the village would take their cues from him.

Taking a breath he holstered his blaster, but left his hand on it just in case. He glanced at Cara who jerked her head towards the large Mandalorian in a “get on with it” gesture.

Din gritted his teeth and moved towards the newcomer. The newcomer didn’t move, just watched as Din came to a stop a few meters from him.

“What do you want?” Din snapped to the large man.

“Is that any way to greet an old friend, verd’ika?”

Din nearly growled and he felt his fingers on his blaster twitch.

“What do you want?” He repeated sharply.

The blue painted helmet moved from side to side.

“This is really where you decided to hide away after revealing your face? Not somewhere I would have expected of you, Beroya.”

Din glared.

“But then again I suppose that was the point, wasn’t it. Hide away from everyone that you abandoned at the Covert.”

In a flash Din had his blaster pressed underneath the large man's chin. The man chuckled as he held his arms out in mock surrender.

“You know I could smush you into the ground before you fired?” He taunted.

“Last chance Vizsla.” Din hissed, “What do you want?”

Paz Vizsla’s face may have been hidden but Din could hear the eye roll.

“I have a message.” The large man explained, “From the Alor.”

Din eased his blaster from Paz’s neck, but took a step back before holstering it.

“Then we had best talk in private.” He half spat before stalking back towards the barn, ignoring Cara’s raised eyebrow and Omera’s distrustful gaze at the new Mandalorian as he disappeared inside.

* * *

The inside of the barn was dark and quiet, with only an echo of the noise outside. Din stood by a table and fidgeted uneasily as Paz Vizsla loomed in the doorway.

“What’s the message?” He asked without looking at the large man.

Paz huffed and crossed him arms.

“You are instructed to return to the Covert with your beskar’gam. If you refuse,” Din could practically hear the grin on Paz’s face, “then I am to bring you.”

Din sighed and lowered his head. He had been expecting this. He was slightly surprised it had taken this long, but then much of the Covert had been wiped out by the Imps and the survivors would have had to relocate. He knew that the Beskar armour that had protected him so well belonged to the Mandalorians, and he couldn’t call himself one since he removed his helmet.

“You won’t have to force me Paz, I’ll go.”

Din noticed Paz’s shoulders slump slightly, as if he was disappointed that he wouldn’t be forcing Din to do something. The man truly was a Vizsla, proud of his heritage and always itching for a fight.

“I should have returned it already,” Din continued, “But I had no way of making contact with the Covert after the Crest was...”

He trailed off, remembering the sight of the ship that had been the closest thing he had to a home being turned into little more than dust. He was pulled from his reverie by Paz’s deep laugh.

“She said nothing about returning it.” Din frowned as Paz shifted closer, “But she did say that you were to bring *everything*.”

* * *

Their departure from Sorgan was swift. Omera watched silently as Din took his Beskar from a wooden trunk and placed it into a bag for transport. She didn’t speak until he picked up the Dark Saber hilt and stared at it for several moments.

“Is that why you’re being summoned?”

Din turned the Saber over in his hands before answering.

“It’ll be part of it.”

He stood and clipped the hilt to his belt before reaching for the beskar spear, only to find it in Omera’s hands.

“Will you be back?”

Din stepped close to her before taking the spear.

“I don’t know.” He said turning and stepping away. He knew there was an unasked question in her words, but he couldn’t give her definitive answer. “I may not be able too.”

Omera nodded and then looked at the floor. The silence in the barn grew heavy.

“The children will miss you.” She said as he picked up the bag containing his beskar’gam. “I... I will miss you.”

Din froze at those words. He had thought that perhaps given enough time he might have courted Omera. He was not well versed in courtships, but he had thought that she had given him more than a few lingering touches and looks over the weeks he had been on Sorgan. Perhaps, given time – a lot of time – he could have become her husband, and a father to Winta. But he doubted that would happen now. And he wouldn’t be the reason she denied herself happiness.

He hefted the bag onto his shoulder then stepped in front of the dark haired woman. He raised his free hand to settle against her face, his thumb brushing her cheekbone, his fingertips brushing into the hair behind her ear.

“Thank you.” He said, his voice strained. “For everything.”

He lowered his forehead to hers. As he pulled back he saw that her eyes were shut and she leaned forward to chase the contact. He held back a sigh as he took a step away from her and turned towards the door. He paused before he stepped into the dim light of outside.

“Just...” he started, a little unsure of what to say. “Be happy.”

He then moved swiftly out of the barn without looking back, which made Omera glad as he never saw the tears that fell down her cheeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando’a translation
> 
> Ibic cuyi haar Manda – this is the way
> 
> Verd’ika – military rank similar to Private, also used as a term of endearment, or teasing. Literally “little warrior”
> 
> Beroya – bounty hunter
> 
> Alor – leader/chief
> 
> Beskar’gam – armour


	3. Chapter two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Paz and Din arrive at the covert. The Armourer imparts wisdom and introduces someone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was HARD. The Armourer just wouldn't tell me what she would do/say! (My characters talk to me and tell me what to write, even those that belong to Disney!)
> 
> My head-canon is that Paz, while perfectly able to pilot a ship, can not park for shit.  
> Also, yes, it's THAT rebel base.  
> Also, don't come at me about time in hyperspace, I'm not an astrophysicist.  
> Also, I've done A LOT of research into Mandalorian culture and history for this story, but I'm not perfect and I'm not an expert.
> 
> Just a little warning, my family and I are moving house in about three weeks. I'm hoping that there wont be an interruption to the update schedule due to this, but I cant make any promises. If I do miss an update I promise there will be a double update the following week!
> 
> No major warnings for this chapter, implied non/dub-con but only a mention. Angst, lots of angst.

* * *

Din sat uncomfortably in the co-pilots chair as Paz prepared for the drop out of hyperspace. The journey from Nevarro had only been a day or so after they had dropped Cara off, and while he hated not being in the pilots chair, Din was glad he wasn’t. He didn’t think his nerves could take it. His mind was racing through innumerable possibilities for the Armourer's summons. Would she melt his armour down? Would she make an example of him in front of what was left of the Covert? Would she declare him Dar’manda? Would his life be forfeit? And what would happen when she found out about the Dark Saber? Or did she already know? Moff Gideon had said it made him leader of all Mandalorians. But was he even Mandalorian any more?

He was drawn from his reverie by the ship dropping out of hyperspace, the blue and white blur of stars condensing into a single planet.

“Where are we?” Din asked, peering through the transpari-steel at the planet that was mostly greenish-brown with several large blue bodies of water.

“Dantooine.” Paz grunted as he flipped various switches to prepare the ship for its descent and landing. “A sister Covert set up in an abandoned rebel base a couple of years back. Had to kill a few Imps for it by all accounts. Those of us that made it off Nevarro have been accepted here.”

Din shrank back into his hood at that. He remembered the pile of beskar armour that he, Cara, Greef, and IG-11 had found in the sewers when they had slipped Moff Gideon’s net. It would haunt him until his dying day.

“How many?” Din asked quietly. “How many made it off?”

Paz was silent for a few moments as he flipped a few more switches and took the ship through the upper atmosphere.

“About twenty.” He finally replied, his helmet firmly facing the way ahead and his shoulders tense. Din’s heart dropped. Twenty? Only twenty? He was the reason the Covert had revealed itself, and that was why the Imps had found them. It was all his fault.

“Closer to fifty if you count the kids.”

Din felt like he’d just been shocked by one of those Jawa electro-sticks.

“The children are safe?” He asked, his voice insistent.

“Yeah, most of them were already on their way here when the Imps attacked. Now shut up would you? I’m trying to land!”

Din sat back in his seat, an invisible weight lifting from his chest. The children were safe. The foundlings were safe. They had a chance to take the Creed and rebuild the Covert. He’d never given the children of the Covert much mind, foundling or otherwise. But after having his own foundling to care for he knew how important the children truly were. How precious they were. He closed his eyes in a silent prayer of thanks for this small mercy.

He was jolted from his benediction as the ship landed heavily, causing him to bounce in his chair. Before he could say anything Paz lifted his hand to silence him.

“Not a word, fly-boy.”

* * *

  
  


Dantooine was lush on the ground. Verdant forests covered most of the planet, occasional rocky outcrops of mountains and cliffs jutted up here and there. Not much civilisation as far as Din could tell.

They had landed in a large clearing at the base of a mountain that contained three other ships. As Din followed Paz down the ramp of the small ship he noticed a handful of Mandalorians that were working on another craft. As he got further from the ramp he noticed that each helmet turned to watch him. He felt each gaze hit him as if it were a blaster shot. He had never felt this nervous going into the old Covert. But then he had been wearing his beskar to protect him, not carrying it near useless in a bag slung over his shoulder. He pulled his hood and cowl closer about his face, in an almost futile attempt to replicate the feeling of wearing his helmet.

Paz led him through a large opening in the mountainside and Din found himself in a fortified bunker. He could understand why the rebellion had made this its base, easy to hide under the great mass of the mountain, easily defensible from ground troops. He wondered why they had abandoned it. He didn’t have time to wonder for long as Paz pushed him forward into the maze of tunnels. As they wound their way deeper into the heart of the base Din was sure that he could hear whispers as they passed the other Mandalorians that littered the hallways. His attention was drawn by a child that ran by, an over large helmet on his head. He thought he recognised the pattern on it from the old Covert. Despite his nerves he felt a small smile twitch at the corner of his mouth. The children are the future he thought.

After another minute of walking Din heard the metallic sounds of the forge. He began to feel the heat that always permeated out from the room occupied by the Armourer. His heart began to race. He swallowed dryly. His breath became shallow.

Din jumped when Paz’s hand landed on his shoulder. He looked up at the larger man and behind him saw the beskar mythosaur skull hanging above an open doorway. Paz said nothing, just nodded. Din took a breath and stepped through into the forge.

* * *

  
  


It was much like the forge back on Nevarro only bigger. A circular room with the white hot flames of the forge in the centre, a low table a few meters in from the door, various tools on work benches around the edge of the room. And there behind the flames was the familiar horned golden helmet of the Armourer.

“Din Djarin. You have finally made your way back to us.” Her voice was commanding in its presence, even with her back to him. Din took a shaky breath.

“I have, Alor. I can only apologise for it taking me so long. The quest you charged me with was not easy and by the time I completed it any trace of the Covert had disappeared.”

The Armourer circled the forge and came to stand by the low table.

“You are here now.” She stated as fact, almost dismissing his excuses. She had never been one for easy affection. She folded herself and sat on the plump cushion as if it were a throne. Din too sat, although his cushion was less plump. “And you no longer wear your beskar. Tell me, was your helmet removed by your hand or by another’s?”

“By my own hand.” Din blurted. “At the request of my so...of my foundling.”

The Armourer. was silent and Din could feel her eyes bore into him.

“And there were others that saw my face. Those not of my clan.”

The Armourer's head tilted slightly at that and Din found himself tripping over his own words in an effort to explain.

“The child had been stolen from me, and I recruited a team of warriors to rescue him. It was once we had rescued him that a Jedi arrived to take him and I...”

Din’s words cut off as he felt a tear slip down his face. He hung his head. He didn’t dare raise a hand to wipe it away.

“Aliit ori’shya tal’din. You know the meaning of this?”

Din blinked but didn’t raise his head. His Mando’a was a little rusty, despite his talent for languages, since most of the Covert had spoken Basic or their own language if they were a foundling. It was a few moments before he whispered his reply.

“Family is more than blood.”

The Armourer. nodded.

“I told you when I gave you your quest that you were as his father. That together you were a Clan of two. Foundlings are our children whether they stay with us or not.”

Din felt his heart slow for a moment. Grogu would always be his son. Even if they never met again. His eyes closed for a moment as he remembered the child, his big ears, dark eyes, and curious mind.

“But for now, let us look to your future.”

She gestured to the bag and Din passed it to her. Reverentially the Armourer. removed each piece from the bag and placed it on the table between them. The last piece was his helm, the light of the forge glinting off the visor that had once hidden his face from the world. There was silence for a moment.

“And the weapons.”

Din swallowed dryly before lowering the beskar spear to the table. The Armourer gave a slight nod, then Din moved a shaky hand to his belt to the Saber hilt. He held his breath as he laid it on the table next to his helm. The Armourer's helm moved from one end of the table to the other, surveying the collection of rare metal before her. It seemed like an age before she finally spoke.

“Your beskar’gam has held up impressively. And you have added many improvements since it’s forging.” She used both hands to lift the spear from its resting place. “This spear is an ancient weapon, forged for the original crusaders of Mandalore.”

She carefully turned it over and examined the sharp blade before returning it to the table.

“I have no doubt it has served you well.”

Din nodded as images flashed through his mind. A black bodied droid sparking as the spear wrenched its head off. The spear itself glowing bright as Moff Gideon brought the Dark Saber down on it. The glint of the beskar blade against the Imperial’s throat.

“But this...”

Din’s eyes snapped up as the Armourer. lifted the Dark Saber to examine more closely.

“I never thought to be in its presence.”

She ignited the blade, the distinctive hum competing with the flames of the forge to fill the space with noise, the dark light reflecting off her helm and visor. With his back to the door Din was unaware of Paz entering and hovering just past the entryway.

“What do you know of it?” Din asked.

The Armourer was silent for a moment before deactivating the Saber and further examining the handle.

“It was forged over a thousand years ago by the first Mandalorian to be inducted into the Jedi order. After his death it was kept by the Jedi for a time before it was liberated. Since then it has been in the possession of nearly every Mand’alor in our history.”

She placed it gently back on the table before continuing.

“If it is won through combat then the victor has the right to claim the throne of Mandalore. Was that how you came by it?”

Din’s heart was beating painfully in his chest. He didn’t want this.

“Yes.” He whispered.

“Then by right you are Mand’alor.” The Armourer said matter of factly before bowing her head.

“But I don’t want to rule.” Din said quietly. “I tried to yield it to Bo-Katan Kryze but...”

He whipped around at the sound of Paz’s disgusted snort.

“That stuck up Princess had her chance.” Paz spat. “But if you don’t want it Djarin, then I will gladly take the Saber from you.”

Paz lunged towards the table only to have his hand smacked away by one of the Armourer's heavy smithing tools.

“You will contain yourself Vizsla.” She admonished, “That is not the way.”

“That Saber should be mine by right!” He growled back at her “It was forged by my ancestor!”

“Gar tal’din ni jaonyc; gar sa buir ori’wadaas’la.” She replied with danger in her voice.

Paz’s un-injured hand twitched for a moment with a barely contained rage before he huffed and stalked back to the doorway, leaning against it and carefully rubbing the hand that had taken the hit from the forge tool. Din had remained quiet through their interaction, only shifting slightly to avoid the tool wielded by the Armourer. As the matriarch settled back across the table from him Din’s thoughts raced.

“The fact remains that you won the Saber through combat.” The Armourer. continued as if Paz hadn’t interrupted. “That makes you the Mand’alor. If you claim the throne or not is up to you. But you have the strongest claim.”

“But I removed my helmet!” Din finally burst, “I am no longer Mandalorian! I am dar’manda!”

The Armourer. levelled her gaze at him.

“Are you?” She enquired simply. “You, only removed you helm for the sake of your son correct?”

Din swallowed his nerves. The raid on the refinery on Morak playing in his mind, all the Imps that had seen his face were dead, except Mayfield. But he had vowed that he had never seen his face. And he had only shown his face to get the position of Gideon's cruiser which was where his son was. Din nodded at the Armourer in answer to her question.

“And was this before or after you had won the Dark Saber?”

“After...” he replied dryly, his thoughts on the little band of warriors that had seen his face as he said goodbye to the little green child.

“So you were already Mand’alor before you removed your helm.” She explained. “By your right you could tell us all to remove our helmets. You are our ruler.”

Din felt his heart stop. Could it really be that simple? Was this a loophole he was willing to exploit? He could take up his mantle again. Feel the weight of the beskar that was so much a second skin to him.

“I... I could never...” he stumbled trying to get his thoughts into order. “Showing another your face is sacred. It should only be to your family.” He whispered.

The Armourer. nodded.

“And Family is more than blood.”

Din blinked as he took in what the Armourer. was saying with what she hadn’t said. Grogu was definitely his family, his son. But what about the others who had been there? Cara was the closest to an adoptive sister. He certainly wouldn’t consider Shand or Fett as siblings, but they had helped him when the could have left him to flounder. The matriarchs low tones interrupted his thoughts.

“While you ponder that, there is another issue we must discuss.”

Din frowned then gave a slight nod.

“The tribe must have a new Beroya. No matter what path you decide to take, it will leave us without a means of support.”

Din inhaled sharply. He had not considered that his leaving, or disappearing, would leave the tribe in such a position.

“What would you have me do?” He enquired. The Armourer pressed a button on her vambrace before continuing.

“I would have you train a replacement. They have been chosen. They merely lack certain abilities that you were given in your own training.”

“Is there no-one from the Covert you joined here that could train them?” Din asked frowning.

“No.” The Armourer replied with finality.

There was the noise of a door sliding open in the dark behind the Armourer and Din glanced up. His eyes settled on a helmet of mostly black, the hint of deep purple gleaming in places.

“This is Yana. She has proved herself to be a capable fighter and would be your apprentice.”

The woman referred to as Yana stepped further into the light of the forge. Her armour was indeed mostly black, a lighter coloured flight suit underneath, and accents of a dark violet splashed on her vambraces and breast plates. There was a rifle slung across her back, a blaster pistol on her right hip, and a large vibroblade on her left.

The Armourer's voice cut into Din’s inspection of the woman.

“You would have to put your beskar’gam on to train her. It would be unwise for it to be otherwise.” Din’s eyes snapped back to the golden helmed woman before she continued. “Or, you could contribute to the Tribe another way.”

“How?” He asked with a frown.

“By giving us children.”

“Foundlings? You want me to go out and bring you foundlings?” Din felt slightly incredulous.

“No. You would give children to those who can carry them.”

Din’s stomach dropped as he realised what she was implying. He had heard rumours of such things happening before. Women of the Tribe being forced into carrying a child, usually from the strongest warrior, in order to expand the tribe’s numbers. He had thought the practice had died out. Or had the Covert's loses really been so great? But that didn’t matter.

“I would never take a woman, against her will, just to fill her belly with my seed.” He spat. If he were to ever have a child the traditional way he would have a riduur, not a one night fuck to make a child that he would unlikely see again. The Armourer merely nodded at his outrage.

“Then your immediate path is clear. Until you decide to claim the throne of Mandalore you will train the new beroya.”

Din clenched his jaw trying to suppress his anger. The Armourer. lifted his helmet off the table and held it out to him.

“You may replace your helm, Mand’alor.”

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando’a terms and translations
> 
> Dar’manda – lit. “Not Mandalorian” someone not worthy of being called a Mandalorian. Damned. Lost soul. Ex-communicated from Mandalorian society.  
> Alor – leader/chief  
> Aliit ori’shya tal’din – Family is more than bloodlines. Mando saying.  
> Mand’alor – sole ruler, ruler of all Mandalorians  
> Gar tal’din ni jaonyc; gar sa buir ori’wadaas’la – Nobody cares who your father was; only the father you will be. Lit: bloodline is not important, but you as a parent are the most valuable thing. Mando saying.  
> Beroya – bounty hunter. The person who provides for the Covert.  
> Riduur – spouse. (There is no gender in Mando’a, so no individual word for husband or wife.)


	4. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Din get his armour back and tests his new apprentice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for violence in this chapter. Canon typical, no blasters. 
> 
> This chapter contains my first ever fight scene! I hope it reads as well as it looked in my head! My long-suffering Beta reader (husband) said it was good, but there's always a niggle in my mind. 
> 
> And we get to meet my Original Female Character, Yana! You'll learn more about her at the story progresses.
> 
> Comments and Kudos give me serotonin! 
> 
> As ever, Mando'a terms and translations at the end.  
> Although a little note about Mando'a - words can have several meanings in Mando'a, ranging across verb/noun/adjective. this makes context essential when understanding the language.

* * *

The dark visor of his helmet seemed to stare at him as Din put his armour back on. If he didn’t know any better he would have said the beskar was heavier than it used to be. His kute certainly felt a little tighter than it should have done. Perhaps all that spotchka on Sorgan was to blame. Or perhaps the fact that Omera had fed him at least three meals a day. He’d never eaten that well with any regularity before.

After one final adjustment of his vambrace, Din picked up his helmet. He stared at it, examining the gleam of the light playing on the metal. The image of Grogu’s little three fingered hand reaching for the cheek plate rose from his memories. He closed his eyes to try to keep the tears that threatened from falling. Taking a shaky breath he raised the helm to press against his forehead, as if the traditional kedalbe kiss could reach the child.

“Ni kyr’tayl gai sa’ad, Grogu.” He whispered, wishing desperately that he had said those words to the child instead of whispering them to the universe at large.

A heavy pounding on the door startled him from his reverie.

“Are you putting your armour on or forging it?” Came Paz’s deep voice as he chuckled at his own joke. “The Armourer and your apprentice are waiting for you!”

Din took a steadying breath before shoving his helmet on and wrenching the door open. Paz was leaning against the wall opposite, Din’s beskar spear leaning next to him. As Din stalked over to the larger man Paz’s helmet gave a little up and down movement. Din held out a hand and Paz pressed the spear into it. As Paz’s hand fell from the spear it paused before patting Din’s stomach that strained against his kute.

“You really did get comfortable on that little backwater, didn’t you?”

Din narrowed his eyes behind his helmet and let out a low growl. Paz held his hands up in mock defeat.

“Where are they?” Din grunted.

“Training rooms.” Paz said as he turned and moved off down the hallway.

Din followed at a short distance, trying to commit the layout of the new covert to memory. He found it increasingly difficult as he noticed more and more helmeted Mandalorians crowded into the dimly lit hallways to follow them. Putting on a burst of speed he caught up with his companion.

“Why are they all following us?” he queried in low tones.

Paz looked at him briefly as they continued on their path.

“They want to see our new Mand’alor fight. See how you won your title.”

Within the confines of his helmet Din ground his teeth. He never wanted the title of Mand’alor, he’d had no idea at the time what taking the Dark Saber from Gideon would mean. He had just wanted his son back. But looking back there was nothing he could have done differently to avoid ending up with the saber. Maybe if Bo-Katan had said why she wanted to defeat Gideon so badly then the plan could have been amended, but she had kept her plotting to herself.

The training rooms looked to comprise of a closed off blaster range and a large open room cut from the belly of the mountain, with several small fighting rings marked out on the floor surrounding a larger raised fighting ring in the centre. The Armourer and his new apprentice – Yana, he reminded himself – stood in the centre of the ring watching as Paz led Din towards them. This was to be his testing of his apprentice he realised. He would be expected to fight her, test her metal, to see if she was suited to being the tribe’s new beroya. As he and Paz got to the ring his mind flashed back to his own testing. He tried to remember the sort of fight that his instructor had made it. There had been vibro-blades involved at one point. He still had a scar on his elbow where his ba’jurirs blade had glanced off his bracer. That had led to his first use of a cauterizer, and he remembered that at 17 it had hurt like all hell. Not that it didn’t hurt now, it had just seemed more painful then.

After a nod from the Armourer he climbed under the stretchy ropes that surrounded the raised ring and stood facing the woman who would now be learning from him. He couldn’t tell how old she was, but she didn’t have the sort of scrawny look to her that a lot of older teenagers did. There were curves to her body, albeit well hidden by her armour. Perhaps in her mid twenties, Din thought, a little old to be in training to be a beroya by normal standards, but these were far from normal times.

“Beroya.” Din snapped his head to the Armourer at her commanding voice as it echoed slightly in the large room. “You will test your new apprentice. Neither Master nor Apprentice shall use blasters or slug throwers at this time. There is only one other weapon you may not use.” she inclined her head towards Din’s waist.

Din nodded and unclipped the dark saber from where it hung on his belt. The Armourer held out a hand for it and Din hesitated.

Noting his hesitancy the Armourer dropped the volume of her voice. “You have my word that you will get it back after the test is complete. And none shall take it from me.”

Din nodded and pressed the hilt into the Armourers palm. She then took a step back, clipping it to her own belt, before indicating that Din and his apprentice should parley in the centre of the ring before the test began.

The two stood in silence for a moment before Yana gave a short bow. “Master beroya.”

Din examined the woman as she stood straight again, he had the feeling that her bow had been slightly sarcastic.

“Vod.” he nodded at her. He was at a bit of a loss for what to say to her, after all he had been pushed into this by the Armourer. Was she in a similar position?

“I will do my best to impress you Master.”

Her voice was clipped, and there was no missing the sarcasm that time. Din frowned.

“Do not call me Master.” he half growled.

Yana’s head tilted to the side in a girlish manner.

“But is that not what you are?” Din noticed that her hands fisted by her sides. “Are you not my Master?”

The venom in her voice was barely hidden and Din frowned to himself. She obviously had something against the position of Master. Not that he was overly keen on that particular honorific, but he wondered where her hatred came from. He clenched his teeth for a moment.

“I may be training you, but I would not call myself your Master. I am your vod, I’m nothing more than that.”

Yana snorted. “Would you prefer I called you Mand’alor? Maybe grovel at your feet?”

She took a step back and bowed deeply. “Your Highness.”

Din tightened his grip on his spear as he realised she was trying to goad him, taunt him into making a mistake. He needed to treat her like a bounty, not an opponent. As she rose from her exaggerated bow he took a deep breath, slowly letting it out to calm himself. He turned slightly to look at the Armourer, noting that Paz was not too far away from the Alor. He gave the older woman a nod and then strode to the edge of the fighting ring. The Mandalorians that had followed him and Paz were stood around the training room in small groups, joined by others that had already been in the room. Small movements and conversations within the groups made him think that there were bets being made. A tap on his boot made him look down to see Paz stood in front of him outside the ring. Din knelt as Paz leaned in conspiratorially.

“Just a warning Djarin, she’s stronger than she looks.”

Din nodded and turned as he stood intending to drop into his sparring stance, only to have to dive sideways as Yana threw her entire body against the ropes where he had stood only seconds before.

“Quicker too!” he heard Paz call with a laugh as he scrambled back up to his feet. Yana had used her momentum to waltz smartly back into the centre of the ring, drawing the vibro-knife from the sheath at her hip as she did so. Din took a quick breath then readied himself, the spear balanced in both his hands and his centre of gravity dropped slightly. Yana began to circle, standing tall, the blade vibrating softly in her left hand. Din moved counter to her steps, assessing what he knew of her as they eyed each other from behind their visors. She was quick, he’d give her that. Paz said she was stronger than she looked, she didn’t have a jetpack on her back which would leave her stuck on the ground if he decided to use that to his advantage.

She lashed out suddenly, bringing the lethal blade sweeping downwards and back. Din brought the spear up to block the thrust, but as he did Yana pulled down against his right arm pulling him off balance and leaving his left side open for a powerful round-house kick that almost sent him sprawling to the mat. He slammed the base of the spear into the floor to stop his fall, and used his downwards momentum to swing his legs along the mat and kick Yana’s from under her. He skidded around onto his knees as she fell onto her back, but before he could get himself up to attack she rolled backwards and used her hands to spring up and away from him into a standing position again. Din rose from his knees and nodded at Yana before dropping into a ready stance to circle her again.

“Impressive.” he called out, only now becoming aware of the noise being caused by the Mandalorians watching.

“If you think that’s impressive, then you’re in for a big surprise old man!” Yana shouted back, as she twirled her blade to settle it in her grip.

So, quick, strong, cocky, Din continued to take stock of his opponent as they circled each other. Favours her left hand, he mused eyeing the blade.

He drove in quickly, the spear extending from his right hand like a whip. Yana twisted and used her vambrace to knock the spear off course. But Din had been expecting that and spun full around, the spear sweeping wide before connecting with Yana’s back plate and sending her sprawling to the ground. The vibro-blade clattered from her hand and skidded to a halt teetering on the edge on the ring behind him. Din spun the spear to correct his grip, but as he lunged downwards, intending to make her yield, she rolled quickly out of the way and scrambled to her feet.

“Yield!” he called as he shook his head, “You’ve no weapon, its over.”

Yana cocked her head for a moment.

“Weapon or not, its not over.” she called back. He noticed that her chest was heaving, he’d clearly winded her with that last attack. She would be weak after that. So he was not expecting her to run full tilt towards the offhand ropes, turn at the last moment and catapult herself back towards him. He brought the spear up with both hands, intending to bounce her off and away. But she surprised him again by dropping to her knees and sliding past him and coming to a stop right next to her vibro-knife. She snatched it up with her right hand and used her left to grab the ropes and swing up and over them to land on her feet inside the ring again.

Din turned and stood upright. Inside his helmet he frowned. This girl was good. But her fighting style was different to that of the fighting corps that he’d trained in. He was underestimating her. He couldn’t do that. And he couldn’t let her know how quickly he was tiring. He should have kept up his drills on Sorgan.

She began to pace away from the ropes, her visor trained on him, and began circling again. As Din began to copy her, he saw her flick her thumb at a catch at the hilt of her knife. With a flick of her wrist the blade split in two, Yana catching the second blade in her right hand. He used the spear to point at her.

“That’s cheating!” he said with incredulity. He heard her let out a bark of derisive laughter.

“No! This is using what I’ve got to my advantage!” she hollered back. She darted forward, thrusting her daggers out aiming for his belly. Din quickly turned and side stepped. Not quite quickly enough though as one of Yana’s blades tore across his leather belly plate. As he felt the pressure against his abdomen Din realised the Yana was not pulling her punches, she was hoping to actually wound him. To her this was no sparring match. Her contact was cut short as Din’s fist connected with the back of her helmet. She stumbled, the force of the punch sending her to one knee. As she pulled herself upright again Din spun, both hands on the spear as he used his momentum to strike the un-bladed end of it against the un-armoured section of Yana’s lower back with a ringing thwack. She cried out as she fell forward to land sprawled on the mat, her daggers clattered from her hands. Din quickly leapt over the prone woman and kicked one of the daggers out of the ring, ignoring the cry of annoyance from the spectator that had gotten a little too close for comfort. In his periphery he saw Yana scramble up and make towards the other dagger. He ignited his jet pack to jump across the ring and land next to the dagger with just enough time to kick her hand away with his heel as she made contact with the hilt. She lurched away with the force of the kick and Din took the opportunity to nudge the dagger off the edge of the ring. He snapped his head back to find Yana cradling her kicked hand. He heard her sigh forcefully through her vocabulator before giving her hand a little shake. Her visor locked with his, and although he couldn’t see them, Din was sure that there was murder in her eyes. He watched her drop into a hand to hand fighting stance, her injured hand not quite forming a proper fist. He dropped low and readied himself, the spear balanced in his right hand.

“Enough!” the Armourer’s voice boomed. Din and Yana both snapped their heads to the golden helmeted woman as she climbed into the ring. She first approached Din. “Have you tested your apprentice’s skill to your satisfaction?”

Din nodded as he fought to catch his breath. “She is a capable fighter. And tenacious.”

Armourer nodded then turned to face the younger woman.

“The beroya has accepted your apprenticeship. Go and ready your ship.”

Yana seemed to vibrate with hostility before nodding curtly at the Armourer and sliding out of the ring. Din kept an eye on her black helmet as she disappeared through the crowd, not bothering to collect her daggers. The press of the Armourer's hand at his elbow made him turn.

“Come, there is something else to discuss before you depart.”

Din cocked his head. “What else is there?” he enquired.

“The matter of the bounty on your head” the Armourer replied.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando’a translation and terms
> 
> Kute – Mandalorian flight suit
> 
> Kedalbe kiss – pressing foreheads (usually helmeted) together, an intimate gesture
> 
> Ni kyr’tayl gai sa’ad – I know your name as my child, adoption vow
> 
> Slug thrower – what we would refer to as a gun, slug throwers are projectile weapons that were primarily used in the Mandalorian/Jedi wars when Mandalorians realised that blaster fire was just fun saber practice for the Jedi. Using projectiles meant that the Jedi would be peppered with shrapnel when the projectile exploded upon being hit with a lightsaber.
> 
> Ba’jurir – to educate, to raise children, in this context Teacher
> 
> Vod – brother/sister, comrade, friend


	5. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yana prepares her ship - and herself - to travel with a man she doesn't know, with only the Alor's word that she can trust him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: medical treatment (not graphic), panic attack/dissociative episode, service animal doing its job.
> 
> Presto-change-o! A chapter from Yana's POV.
> 
> The majority of this fic is from Din's POV, but there are a few things that worked better from Yana's, so there will be the occasional chapter from her POV.
> 
> In other news, Husband and I get the keys to our new house next week. There will be an update next Friday, the following friday is all going to depend on if our internet has been connected at the new house. It should be, but I'm going off experiences pre Covid so... maybe?  
> If I can't update on the Friday then I'll put out an extra chapter once I've got internet.
> 
> As always, Mando'a terms and translations at the end.

* * *

Yana stomped through the covert, her jaw clenched as she felt her hand pulsate with pain. She thought of going to the Med Wing, but she would rather sort her injury on her ship. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust the doctors and medics, but she trusted the Med-droid on her ship more, clunky and out-dated as it was. She finally entered the hanger and made her way to the far end where The Vagabond waited for her, sunlight glinting off the tarnished silver hull. It looked like there had been colour on the hull at one point, streaks of dull red and white paint still visible where the plates joined. It was large and clunky, despite the curves that the designers had tried to make prominent. And while it was missing its escape craft, that just meant that there was room for extra cannons. The modified GX-1 cruiser was one of the few things she truly considered ‘hers’. Everything else was for the tribe, everything she earned, everything she won. Aside from the credits that the Vagabond took in fuel and maintenance of course. Even her armour wasn’t truly hers, she hadn’t earned it. Yet.

The rear access ramp was already down and Yana stormed straight up it, through area that doubled as both cargo bay and training area, and headed towards the cramped med-bay.

“Doc!” she called as she made her way to mid-ship, now cradling her right hand in her left. “Wake up!”

The door painted with the familiar green and white medical symbol slid open ahead of her, and she stepped smartly inside. The med-droid was clunking to life from its charging station on the wall, extending its spindly arms as the lights of its eyes flickered on.

“Hello – Mistress.” the droid’s vocoder was slow and slightly tinny. As it warmed up it would speak normally, for a droid. “How can – I be of – assistance?”

Yana gritted her teeth, both at the honorific and to brace for the pain as she removed her glove and vambrace.

“Need a scan Doc. Took a Wompa foot to my fingers.”

She laid her hand flat on the table and waited for the droid to scan the damage. Even she could see that at least part of her thumb was dislocated.

“Wompa’s are – very dangerous creatures. You should – avoid them in all circumstances.”

Yana eyed the droid from behind her visor. She had forgotten how literal the droid could be.

“Not an actual Wompa, Doc. He just had the punching power of one.” she explained as the med-droid extended one arm and began to scan the bruised flesh of her hand.

“I am detecting – three dislocated knuckles. A micro-fracture on the first – digit. And a large amount of – bruising and swelling.”

The scanner retracted and the droid turned to take a hypo out of the storage compartment.

“The knuckles will need to be – reset, and you will require a shot of bacta. I – would also recommend a brace for a few hours – to allow the bacta to work. And no heavy lifting.”

Yana nodded and rolled the sleeve of her flight suit up so the hypo could slide into the skin at the crook of her elbow. The healing liquid sent a cold sensation through her veins that immediately lessened the pain. She let out a breath and relaxed as her hand went slightly numb, allowing her eyes to slip closed behind her visor. She could feel the pressure of Doc carefully manipulating her knuckles back into alignment, but no pain. Bacta really was a miracle drug. Then there was the all over pressure of Doc putting the brace over her hand and wrist. No glove for now in that case.

“Your healing is complete.”

Yana opened her eyes and looked down at the brace on her hand. It boxed all but the tips of her fingers in and immobilised her hand and wrist. At least it was black and wouldn’t stand out too much against her flight suit and armour.

“Thanks Doc, best get on with pre flight.” She said as she rolled her sleeve back down. It covered some of the brace, hopefully no one would notice it.

“Please remember, no heavy lifting.”

Yana waved her good hand dismissively at the droid before scooping up her vambrace and glove from the table and heading out of the door. She headed further into the ship towards the cockpit.

“C4!” She called out as she went. “You better be in your station you little shi...”

A loud whistle of droid-speak drowned out her insult before she could finish it.

“Alright! You know I never mean it!” She said as the dark green astromech rolled into view. She knelt and raised her good hand to pat the little droid’s angular head. “So, we’re gonna have someone joining us this time. Think you can go get extra rations from supplies for me? I’d do it myself but Doc said no heavy lifting.” She waved her braced hand as proof. C4 let out a low groan, then whistled sharply. Yana let out a huff of laughter.

“Sure. I’ll get you the best oil there is next time we’re in the Core.” She knew the chances of going to one of the core worlds was slim to none. But so did C4. The little droid rattled on his way and Yana smiled to herself. There was only one thing left to do before she could start pre-flight properly.

She heaved herself up and strolled back down the ship. She had to admit that the fact that the captains cabin was not next to the cockpit didn’t make a lick of sense to her, but she wasn’t going to complain. Not when her cabin held a bed, an actual bed not a bunk, and its own private fresher. And most importantly, since she was now going to be having company, a lock on the door. She didn’t doubt that the Beroya was trustworthy, he was Mandalorian after all, but after all she had been through she felt better knowing that there was a safe haven she could retreat to and lock him out. She hadn’t had that option when she was younger.

She arrived at her cabin door and typed in the code. The door swished open and Yana was greeted with a happy yowl. On the end of the bed was a small-ish six-legged canine with silvery grey fur, a slightly too large tongue half hanging out of its mouth, the tip of its obnoxiously long tail pounding against one of the pillows.

“Hey Ku.” Yana crooned as she made her way into the room. “You enjoy your nap on my bed? You know you’re not supposed to sleep there. You’ve got your own nest that you’ve stolen enough of my blankets for!”

The strill started dancing in excitement as Yana deposited her for now unwearable vambrace and glove into a drawer, then reached up to remove her helmet. Her hand paused in the act of lifting it from her head, she didn’t know how long it would be until the Beroya arrived. She turned as she lifted the beskar from her head and placed it within easy reach on the bed. The strill gave a little hop to place its front four legs onto Yana’s chest so it could reach up and give her face a slobbery canine kiss. Yana wrinkled her nose and let out a sound of disgust.

“Thanks Kunik, I love you too!” She said as she rubbed the strill’s head with her good hand and wiped away the slobber with the sleeve of her bad. She moved to sit on the edge of the bed and Kunik bounced around a few times before leaning against her to enjoy some tummy rubs.

“Hey guess what?” She asked looking down at the strill’s orange eyes that were half closed in pleasure. “They finally tracked down the old Beroya. Looks like I’m going to be finishing my training!” She felt a small damp patch begin to grow on her arm where Kunik’s tongue lolled against her flight-suit. “He’s going to be coming with us. On the ship.”

The strill sat bolt upright, bat-like ears pricked up sharp, then began a low growl.

“I know!” Yana sighed, running her gloved hand through Kunik’s short fur, “I don’t like it any more than you do. Probably less. But I’ll be able to complete my training and earn my place properly.”

Kunik fell into silence then dropped their ears before laying their head on Yana’s lap and curling their tail around the two of them. Yana was silent for a few moments as she kept stroking the strill’s head in a calming manner.

“Tell you what.” She said softly, “If he tries anything that I don’t like, you can chomp on his balls, hows that?”

Kunik made a contented noise and wagged the end of their tail.

* * *

It was over an hour before the Beroya would make an appearance. When he did he was still flanked by the Armourer and the giant in blue armour. Yana was adjusting the control panel on the carbonite chamber while Kunik lounged at the top of the access ramp behind her. Soldering replacement wires into place with one hand was not the easiest job, but C4 still hadn’t returned from collecting supplies, and the wires needed replacing unless she wanted to get a lung full of freezing gas every time she used the machine. It was only when Kunik started a low warning growl that Yana realised the trio were approaching. She secured the soldering iron, then gave the strill a reassuring pat on the head before heading down the ramp to wait for them. As they got closer she noticed that the beroya seemed more tense than he had earlier. What in the makers name had they discussed that had got him so riled up? Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that Blue had his heavy repeating blaster hanging from his hand.

The beroya stopped a few meters from the Vagabond and stared up at it for a few moments, seeming to take in the large silver fuselage.

“ _This_ is _your_ ship?” he asked with incredulity.

Yana bristled and crossed her arms over her chest.

“There a problem with that?” she replied venomously.

“Its a kriffing bus!” he exclaimed.

Just because the vast majority had been reclaimed in the early years of the Empire and set to work as inter-planetary public transport didn’t mean all of them had. A few of the diplomatic variants had remained in private hands. Did he think she’d stolen it from a transport company? Granted she had _technically_ stolen it, but not from public use.

Yana was about to give a scathing reply when a blue armoured hand connected with the back of the beroya’s helmet.

“Be nice!” he scolded.

Yana smiled inside her helmet, maybe big blue wasn’t too bad if he was willing to defend her ship. Still far too ‘Alpha Male’ for her to want too much to do with him, but maybe a cordial greeting in future.

“Yana.” the Armourer drew her attention. “There has been a change in circumstances.”

Yana stiffened, was she not going to finish her training? Was the beroya going to slide back into his role? She swallowed, trying to clear the anxious thoughts.

“I am aware of your past experiences, however, circumstances now dictate that Beroya Djarin must travel with a personal guard.”

Yana frowned behind her visor.

“A personal guard?”

“Yes. There is a bounty on his head that we believe to be part of a ploy. What this ploy’s endgame is we do not know. But there are avenues that can be investigated. While you and beroya Djarin conduct that investigation Vizsla will serve as his guard.”

Yana felt her stomach drop. Not one, but _two_ men on her ship. Her chest felt tight. Her breath wouldn’t come properly. Her mouth was dry. Her blood sang in her ears.

She a muffled sound of confusion from elsewhere and then felt a dull pain on her left fingers. Her focus snapped down to see Kunik tugging at the fingers of her glove. Taking a steadying breath she knelt and allowed her companion to tug the leather off her hand, and then rub their furry head against her palm.

“No, I’ve never seen a strill before.” she heard the beroya say to big and blue.

“Well you’d best be on your best behaviour, looks like your apprentice has quite a bond with that one.” Vizsla replied.

Yana scratched behind Kunik’s ear then retrieved her glove from their teeth. She didn’t move to put it on as she stood up, Kunik’s slobber would make it all but impossible.

“Is there no-one else that could perform that duty?” she asked the Armourer without looking.

“There are those capable of the task. But only Vizsla was willing.”

Yana clenched her glove in her fist and gave a short nod. The Armourer gave her shoulder a reassuring pat.

“I trust these two with my life.” she began, indicating the two men that were now having a tense conversation. “They are both fierce warriors in their own ways, and both are intensely loyal. Neither would willingly do you any harm.”

Yana was silent for a moment before nodding and allowing the Armourer to guide her towards the men. They fell silent as the two women came to a halt in front of them.

“All is arranged.” the Armourer informed the men and they nodded. She zeroed her visor to Vizsla’s. “Look after your charge. Treat him with the honour and respect he deserves.”

“Aye Alor.” he replied with a jerk of his head. She then turned her attention to the beroya.

“Teach her well, and contemplate your future.”

Yana frowned to herself as the beroya nodded, even for the Armourer that was an odd statement.

“Verd’ika.” the Armourer’s attention was now on her. “Heed the Resol’nare, learn all you can, fight well and survive.”

Yana nodded, she could do that, she was a survivor. The Armourer took a few steps before turning back and addressing the three.

“K’oyacyi. Ret’urcye mhi.”

Yana nodded, and watched as the Armourer headed back into the covert. After a moment she saw Vizsla turn his helmet towards her.

“So where did you get a strill?”

Yana looked up at him and let out an irritated sigh.

“My buir.” she replied shortly as she turned and moved swiftly up the boarding ramp. She heard the clatter of the two men’s footsteps following her and swung around to face them as they emerged into the belly of the ship.

“Listen, this is my ship. My ship, my rules.” she stated firmly, eyeballing the two men from behind her visor. Vizsla crossed his arms across his chest, but the beroya just stood there. In the silence she heard the clicking of Kunik’s claws on the metal floor of the Vagabond. The strill began to growl, low and dangerous. Yana saw Vizsla stiffen. He was tribe born, he would know how dangerous the hunting beasts could be, at least by word of mouth if not by experience. The beroya, though, had said he’d never seen a strill before. But he shouldn’t have been as relaxed as he appeared. If the slobbering jaws containing wicked looking fangs didn’t scare someone, then the repulsive smell usually kept most men away. Not that Yana noticed the smell any more, but Kunik had been by her side for over a decade, and it was said that men found the smell worse than women did.

If the beroya disliked Kunik’s odour he didn’t let on. Instead he surprised Yana by moving down onto one knee, removing one glove, and holding the back of his hand out for Kunik to sniff. Yana watched with fascination as Kunik snuffled at the beroya’s hand and further up his arm, huffed, then sat down heavily on their rear at the beroya’s feet.

Yana felt her jaw drop. She had never seen Kunik so accepting of a man before.

“So, you’ve met Kunik.” she said, tailing off, not entirely sure what else to say as the normally highly protective strill allowed the beroya to pat their silver furred head.

The slightly domestic scene was interrupted by a squeal of droid-speak from the access ramp. In the blink of an eye the beroya had his side arm drawn and aimed at C4, which made Kunik leap away with a snarl.

“Hey!” Yana yelled, moving to slap down the blaster. “Its just C4. He’s my astromech!”

The beroya stood up slowly, waiting until he was at his full height before holstering the blaster pistol.

“I… He made me jump.” he growled.

“If that is you being jumpy I dread to think what you’re like when someone’s pissed you off.” she quipped, earning a huff of a laugh from Vizsla.

The beroya set his visor to stare at her. She stared right back for a moment, then put her uninjured hand on her cocked hip and gestured with her black brace.

“He’s got the supplies. So how about you two help him get them onboard and I’ll deal with the navi-comp.”

There was a moment of silence that threatened to stretch into eternity before the beroya replied with a terse “Fine.”

Yana took a breath as the two men moved to follow the green astromech, shaking her head slightly at the strange behaviour of the beroya.

“I’ll need a destination for the hyperspace calculations.” she called.

The two men stopped. Vizsla looked back at the beroya who was silent for only a moment before turning his head to speak one word to Yana.

“Nevarro.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando’a terms and translations
> 
>   
> Strill – six legged canine creature, native to Mandalore. Hermaphroditic. Folds of skin between its legs allow it to glide. Sharp claws on its paws allow it to climb almost anything. Domesticated and used as hunting dogs. Have a lifespan of 300 – 400 years, often passed down through clans. Fiercely loyal to those they love, especially good with pregnant women and babies.
> 
> Beroya – bounty hunter.
> 
> Verd’ika – military rank similar to private, lit: little warrior.
> 
> Resol’nare – the six tenants of Mandalorian life. This IS the Way.
> 
> K’oyacyi – stay safe.
> 
> Ret’urcye mhi – Maybe we’ll meet again. Farewell
> 
> Buir – mother/father/parent. Birth or adoptive.


	6. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Din settles onto the ship, learns more about Yana, and a plan is made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warning; Mention of child death.  
> It is only a mention, there are no details.
> 
> I had to do maths for this chapter. Work out birthdates. Din's age is not supplied in canon (that I can find), so I had to guesstimate. If my maths and timeline is correct he's meant to be somewhere between 35 and 40.
> 
> There wont be an update next week due to my house move and lack of internet. However I do promise a double update the following week!

* * *

Yet again Din found himself in the co-pilots seat. The Vagabond had lifted steadily and smoothly through Dantooine’s atmosphere, Yana already proving she was a better pilot than Paz, and was now preparing for the jump to hyperspace. Din watched as his apprentice – it would take him some time to get used to that – set the navi-comp co-ordinates for Nevarro.

“Input the calculations C4.”

There was a whistle from the droid in response. Yana reached for the hyperspace lever on her right and Din noticed that she used the heal of her hand to push it forward. She had a brace on he realized. He must have injured her during their spar. He felt slightly guilty about it, but if a few broken fingers were the worst of her injuries then she came out better than he had done from his assessment spar with the beroya that had taught him.

Once the ship was into hyperspace, the stars streaking past the window in swirls of blue and white, Yana set the auto-pilot and spun her seat to face the two men behind her.

“I guess I better give you a tour of the ship.” she said with a sigh.

“Probably a good idea.” Paz muttered, before standing and gesturing for the woman to lead on. She stalked past them both before Din could stand from his seat. He sighed.

“Paz could you please try not to piss her off?”

Paz shrugged and lumbered after the younger woman. They passed through a small area that contained the weapons array and into the main body of the ship. There they found Yana leaning against a table. She pointed to a door on the starboard side of the ship.

“That’s your cabin.” she said shortly, “Its the crew quarters. Hadn’t expected there to be an entourage so you’re going to have to share.”

She set her visor intentionally on Paz.

“But there’s a private fresher in there,” she continued, “and the bunks are roomy enough, even for giants. And they have privacy screens too, so you can take your buckets off if you want too.”

Paz huffed at the giant comment, but otherwise stayed quiet. Yana pushed off the table and stalked to the rear of the ship.

“Galley, and Med-bay.” she gestured to each door in turn with a wave of her braced right hand. “Doc takes a little while to get going, but he’s the only medic I trust completely.”

“A med-droid?” Din enquired.

“Got a problem with that?” she shot back.

Din held his hands up to placate her while he gave his head a short shake. “Its your ship.”

Yana looked at him for a moment before continuing down the ship. They were now in the large open area where Din, Paz, and C4 had unloaded the supplies.

“First door is storage, second door is the armoury.” she pointed as she passed them and Din was shocked to realise that she wasn’t wearing her glove. Her skin was pale against the dark grey of her flight-suit sleeve. Her fingers looked strong and used to work. What jarred him slightly was the almost white streaks of long scars that crossed the back of her hand and disappeared up her sleeve.

He jumped slightly as she spun around and pointed at another door across from the first two.

“Those are mine and Kunik’s quarters. You stay out.” the threat in her voice was clear. “Understand?”

Din glanced at Paz who seemed just as taken aback by Yana’s forcefulness.

“Understood.” he nodded, noting that Paz did the same.

“Good.” she turned on her heel and moved on again.

“When the supplies are put away I usually use this area for training.” she indicated the crates of supplies that were stacked to one side. Din noticed a series of faded circular marks on the floor, as if something once fixed in place had been removed.

“Carbonite unit is through there.” she pointed with her braced hand again, “Used to be the droid bay, but that’s up front opposite the weapons array. Made more sense considering C4 does most of his work up there.”

She leant against the final doorway that they had come through when they boarded.

“And back there is engineering. Machine workshop is starboard, port is a junk room, but I’ve found loads of useful things in there. Any questions?”

She folded her arms across her chest as the two men remained silent.

* * *

Six hours later Din was doing his best to get some rest. It was not easy with Paz snoring like a bantha in the next bunk. The privacy screens helped, but Din had gotten used to the quiet sounds of Sorgan. And before that the little snuffles and squeaks of Grogu in the hammock above his cot. And before that the almost silent running of the Crest in hyperspace. Thinking back he hadn’t shared a sleeping space with anyone since the last night he had seen his ba’jurir. With a defeated sigh Din retrieved his helmet from the alcove at the side of his bunk, opened the privacy screen and slid off the bunk, thinking he might go to the galley and make himself some caf. As he opened the door of his shared quarters he was greeted by the sight of Yana sat at the little lounge table, a data pad in one hand, a steaming cup of caf with a straw off to one side, and Kunik sprawled out at her feet. She made no move to acknowledge him as he moved towards the galley.

“There’s fresh made caf in the dispenser.”

Din snapped his head around to look at Yana. She had barely moved, but her attention was now on him rather than the data-pad in her hand.

“Thank you.” Din said softly before moving quickly into the galley. It was well equipped, if a little out-dated, even having a small chiller for fresh foods, which meant there was a chance of proper meals, not just rehydrated ration packs. The caf dispenser was obvious but it took him a few minutes to find the cups and straws.

Finally with a cup of dark liquid in his possession he exited the galley and headed to where his apprentice sat.

“May I join you?” he asked. Yana’s visor raised from the data-pad to meet his. It was a moment before she jerked her head to the other end of the curved bench she sat on. He slid onto the padded seat as far as he could from her as her attention went back to her data-pad. They sat in silence for a few minutes, Din occasionally stirring his caf with the straw.

“So what do I call you?” Yana broke the silence and Din looked up from his caf to her black helmet as she continued, “You seem to have as much love for the term ‘Master’ as I do. Most outsiders call us all Mando but with three of us that would get confusing. So what do I call you? Ba’jurir? Beroya?”

Din thought for a moment.

“You call me by my name. Its known now, I might as well use it.”

Yana nodded and set down her data-pad.

“If that’s what you want. Might be useful for you to tell me your name in that case.”

“You don’t know it?” he frowned, “I would have thought the Armourer…”

“She just called you the beroya.” Yana interrupted. “Your covert seem to like keeping your names to yourselves.”

“So you don’t know…” he waved his hand to the door that hid Paz’s sleeping form.

“Most of us call him Big Blue.” Yana said with a shrug. “Although a few people called him Shorty.”

“Shorty?” Din couldn’t keep the incredulous confusion out of his voice.

“On account of his short temper.” Yana explained

Din let out a bark of laughter. He’d known Paz since he was first taken in by the covert, and while the older man could be brusque, and forceful when he spoke his mind, it took a lot to get him to anger. That was why he had backed down so quickly when they had argued when Din had brought the cantomo of beskar back after delivering the child.

“We know he’s a Vizsla, but they’re a big clan.” Yana continued.

Din nodded in response.

“Well I have my own clan. I am Din Djarin of Clan Mudhorn.”

“Can’t say I’ve ever come across a member of Clan Mudhorn before.” Yana leaned back, one gloved hand curling around her mug of caf. “Clan of one?”

“Clan of two actually.” he replied after a shake of his head, “Me, and my foundling. His name was… is Grogu.”

His chest felt tight as he thought of the small green creature that had wormed his way into his heart. His son.

“He’s not with you any more.” it wasn’t a question. Din stared at his mug of caf in his hands. He’d not put his gloves back on he realised.

“I was quested to return him to his own kind. He left me about a standard year ago. He’s safe.”

They sat in silence for a few moments, only Kunik’s light snores and the hum of the hyperdrive making any noise.

“Our children never really leave us.” Yana said softly.

Din looked at her.

“You sound like you’re speaking from experience.”

He heard Yana swallow.

“I had a daughter. Flit. She was the sweetest little baby.” her voice was tight, as if she was fighting back emotion. “She… she died when she was just over a year old.”

Din noticed that Kunik had awoken with nothing more than a huff and had quickly settled their large head on Yana’s lap.

“I’m sorry.” he said softly, turning his head away from the pair. It was only in his periphery that he saw Yana slide a hand under her helmet and wipe something from her cheeks. He waited a few moments more before looking back towards her.

“It was a long time ago.” she said, her voice low, her hand rubbing at Kunik’s ear as the strill drooled on her lap. “And I will see her again in the Manda.”

Din nodded and they fell into silence. He looked down at his mug of caf held between his hands. Making a snap decision, pulled the straw out, and instead lifted his helmet just enough to take a long sip. As he lowered his helmet back into place he saw Paz looming in the doorway of their quarters.

“So we aren’t using straws any more?” he asked as he stepped away from the door.

Din swallowed his mouthful of caf and shrugged.

“I got used to not having them on Sorgan.” he explained. “You can still use them if you…”

“The Mand’alor has spoken! No more straws!” Paz boomed as he turned towards the galley, muttering as he went in search of caf “Always made me look stupid anyway.”

Din heard Yana let out a chuckle.

“Hope you don’t mind if I keep using them.” she lifted her mug in salutation. “I’m not ready to show my face just to drink my caf.”

“I’m not going to tell you how to live your life.” he leaned back against the worn leather of the bench. “I’m no Mand’alor.”

“But you wield the dark saber. Means you’re Mand’alor weather you like it or not.” Yana countered as she leant her elbows on the table.

“I didn’t win the dark saber to take the throne of a dead planet.” Din avoided her gaze. “I just wanted my kid back and that meant taking down Gideon. I wasn’t supposed to end up with the kriffing thing.”

They were silent for a moment, the only noise the sound of Paz clattering about in the galley.

“Those best suited to lead are those who do not seek to.” Yana said softly. “Those who do seek power are ill suited to it.”

Din looked back at her, surprised at her profound words.

“Such wisdom from such a young thing.” came Paz’s deep voice. He was leaning against the wall, a mug of caf in one hand. “How did one so young gain such wisdom?”

“I’m older than you think.” Yana huffed, scratching behind Kunik’s ear as the strill yawned.

“And how old is that?”

Yana looked at the large man then sighed softly.

“I’m not entirely sure. I left my parents after my third summer, I think. I was a temple girl for at least ten years. The Mandalorians took me in after…” she cut off, as if she had been about to say something that shouldn’t be said. “I wasn’t yet twenty. That was the best part of fifteen years ago. So I’m somewhere around thirty-two.”

Din nodded as he wondered what she had been going to say. The silence made him itch.

“I was a foundling.” he offered, “The Watch took me in after droids destroyed my village. I was seven, I think. That was nearly thirty years ago, so I’m thirty-six. Give or take.”

He saw Yana nod, taking in the information. He’d never shared so much with anyone before.

“What about you Big Blue?” Yana asked Paz as she picked up her caf and slid the straw under her helmet.

“I have a name you know.” he replied gruffly.

“That you haven’t told me.” she countered.

The large man huffed and reached to set his mug on the table.

“I am Paz Vizsla, of House Vizsla. Born on Mandalore, forty-nine years ago.”

Din had known that Paz was older than him, but to hear that he was closer to Grogu’s age than his own surprised him slightly.

“Didn’t realise you were such an old man, Paz.” he joked.

Paz looked down at Din, as if to pin the younger man in place with his stare.

“Well it’s nice to officially meet you Paz Vizsla.” Yana cut through the tension. “But just know that we’re all youngsters to Kunik here. They’re in their nineties.”

She gave the strill’s flank a loving pat.

“How did you end up with a strill anyway?” Paz asked. “You’re a convert. They usually stay in ancient clans.”

Yana’s hand stilled.

“A story for another time.” she said dryly. “We’ve got another seven hours or so before we get to Nevarro. I’m going to go get some rest before we get there.”

She slid off the bench and moved towards her quarters.

“C4’s in the cockpit if there are any issues.” she called over her shoulder as she disappeared from Din’s sight-line, Kunik trotting along at her heels.

* * *

Eight hours later the Vagabond touched down on Nevarro. Din felt slightly put out when Cara and Karga weren’t waiting for him at the bottom of the ramp before he realised that they wouldn’t know he was coming in the cruiser. Instead the three Mandalorians made their way into the centre of the little town. Yana kept pace with Din while Paz brought up the rear a few steps behind.

“So this is where your old covert was?” Yana asked, her visor sweeping from one side of the street to the other.

Din had already seen a number of people staring and exchanging tense words at their passing.

“Underground.” he replied tersely, “In the sewers.”

“Delightful.” Yana muttered sarcasticly as a small crowd parted ahead of them.

Din frowned to himself. He knew that all three of them coming into town would cause a ruckus, but neither Paz nor Yana could realistically stay behind on the ship. He would always have them with him, at least for the immediate future.

Finally he found himself stepping into Karga’s office. The annoying blue mythrol was sat behind the desk perusing a data-pad. When he looked up to see Din he shrieked.

“I didn’t do anything Mando! I swear!” he cried, dropping the data-pad with a clatter.

Din heard a barely suppressed snort of laughter from Yana behind him and he turned to give her a reprimanding look.

“Do you always get such a warm welcome?” she snarked.

Din’s reply was cut off by Karga emerging from a back room.

“Mando!” he called jovially. “Good to see you my friend! Good to see you!”

The two men clasped hands in a short greeting before Karga peered around Din his eyes on Yana.

“And who is this? You got yourself a girlfriend Mando?” Din knew the man was only teasing, but he doubted Yana would take it like that. He could see a subtle wave of tension grow in the woman’s stance. But before he could say anything Karga had pushed past him, and was making a grab for one of Yana’s hands. Almost instantaneously there was a humming vibro-blade microns away from Karga’s throat, Din had barely seen her move.

“Easy.” Karga soothed, his hands up where Yana could see them.

“Verd’ika.” Din said softly, noting the slight movement of the black helmet in his direction. “Let him go, he meant no harm. Did you Greef?”

The dark skinned man shook his head as best he could. Din saw Yana take a few deep breaths. She leaned close to Karga’s face.

“I don’t like to be touched.” she hissed at him before stepping back and swiftly sheathing her knife.

“Got it.” Karga rasped as he put a hand to his throat, feeling for any nicks in his skin.

Din glanced at Yana. She was stood stiffly with her back to him. Paz had his helmet tilted towards her, perhaps talking to her through a private com-chanel in their helmets. Din decided to distract the magistrate.

“Could you run a puck to see who put the bounty out?” he asked, stepping to block Karga’s view of the other Mandalorians.

“Sure can.” Karga said, a slight shake in his voice. Din handed him the puck, but as Karga went to put it on a scanner behind the mythrol’s desk he grabbed the other man’s hand.

“This doesn’t leave this room Karga.”

“What doesn’t?” came a feminine voice from the door. Din snapped his head around to find Cara leaning in the doorway. “The fact that there’s a bounty on your head?”

“Is that what this is about?” Karga asked as Din let go of his wrist.

Din deliberated for a moment before nodding.

“We’ve already tried to trace it.” Cara said as she moved into the room. “It doesn’t make sense. There’s nothing. No client chain-code, no planet of origin, just a price and your face.”

“His face?” the mythrol sounded surprised “But you guys never take off your helmets.”

Din, Paz, and Yana all fixed their attention on the blue man.

“I’ll just shut up.” he mutter and shrank back behind the desk.

“Dune and I have been talking.” Karga started, “It seems to us there are only two people who know your face, and could have reason to put a bounty on you.”

“And do these people have names? Chain-codes?” Din felt his blood rise, this was the start of a hunt.

“By our thinking its either Bo-Katan, or Boba Fett.” Cara explained.

“I thought that the clone went into a sarlac pit a few years back.” Paz interrupted. “Nobody gets out of those.”

“Apparently Fett did.” replied Din, “He helped me get the kid back from Gideon. Why would Fett put a bounty on me?”

“He’s taken over the old Hutt syndicate on Tatooine.” Cara said. “I’ve been keeping an eye on the situation through the New Republic databases ever since before big blue over there stomped into my office and demanded your location.”

Din glanced at Paz, there really no other way to describe him than ‘big’ and ‘blue’.

“He’s now king-pin of a major crime organisation, I don’t think he’d want another Mandalorian king out there stealing his thunder.”

Din clenched his fists as he heard mythrol whisper “He’s a king?!”

“Alright, so Fett is option one.”He said forcing himself to relax slightly. “What about Bo-Katan?”

“That’s where things get tricky.” Karga said. “She’s a ghost. No sign of her anywhere.”

“Which considering she took off with an Imperial cruiser and a load of weapons is a big issue for the Republic” Cara interjected.

“Every single Mandalorian knows her intentions.” said Paz. “We may be able to locate her through the covert network.”

Cara nodded. “If you find her and need help I’m sure the New Republic could spare a squadron or two to bring her in for questioning.”

Din looked at Yana. She had slunk back to lean against the wall, her visor staring at the floor, and although she seemed to have relaxed he didn’t like how quiet she was.

“Verd’ika.” Her head snapped up to look at him. “What do you think?”

“I’ve heard of Fett.” she said after a moment of silence, her visor still trained on the floor. “From what I’ve heard he wouldn’t like competition, but I don’t think he’d let you know like that. He’d let you know in person.”

Din nodded.

“Wait, who are you?” Cara asked, pointing at Yana.

“She’s my apprentice.” Din explained quickly.

“Three Mando’s coming through town at once. No wonder everyone was rattled” Cara quipped.

“Not so long ago there were close to a hundred Mandalorians in this town.” Paz drew himself up and crossed his arms. “And none of you were any the wiser. You only see us when we want you to.”

“Well you’re hard to miss Blue.” the Marshall eyeballed the large man.

Din ignored the pair as they stared each other down.

“What’s your plan then Verd’ika?” he asked Yana. She pushed herself off the wall and moved towards Din.

“I suggest we go talk to Fett. If he did put the bounty out then you can deal with it then and there. If he didn’t then he might know something that the New Republic don’t.”

“Sounds like a fair plan.” said Karga “If a little easy in its assessment.”

“It was going to be my plan too.” Din said. “Sometimes the obvious move is the best move to make.”

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando’a terms and translations
> 
> Caf - Star Wars version of coffee  
> Ba’jurir – to educate, to raise children, teacher. Context is important.  
> Manda – the Mandalorian collective soul, heaven  
> Verd’ika – military rank similar to Private, lit. Little Warrior


End file.
